Shedding One's Skin Requires Losing One's Identity
by fizzwizz15
Summary: In a universe where being an Omega is incredibly rare, something to be both hated and feared, John flees his home and goes into hiding when he discovers that he is one. Creating a new life for himself, John has beaten the odds and is now identified as a Beta doctor. Then an extremely arrogant Alpha by the name of Sherlock Holmes turns up at his door to question him about a murder.
1. Chapter 1

So I have dipped my toes into this side of the Sherlock fandom. I have to admit I am already addicted to writing it. Also first story I have published in years. Anyhoo! I have nearly finished this story already so I thought I should begin posting chapters. Any crits would be great! Have to quickly add that John is named John Trevor at the start, but his last name will be changed to 'Watson' by the end of the chapter.

This first chapter really just setting up John's life and how it has played out till the present day. Enjoy. Will be posting chapter two as well today. You can find this on AO3 as well.

* * *

The day John Trevor accidentally figured out that he was an Omega, he felt like he wanted to die. John had presented earlier than what was considered 'normal'. Thanks to the use of the bathroom mirror and a stolen medical book from the library, the life-changing deduction had been made.

The 'great discovery' occurred a month before his thirteenth birthday, the compulsory legal age of testing for every Lower-Class child to see if they had either Beta or Omega qualities.

All Alpha families were Upper Class and therefore never required the test. It was scientific knowledge that the Alpha genes ran dominant through all children produced in their bloodlines. Thus there was the systematic testing to always know the exact number of omegas being produced so they could be paired up with an Alpha the moment they turned 18. Breeding and producing children as soon as possible was of the utmost importance to try and keep the ratio balance between Alphas and Omegas.

But as each generation passed, Omega numbers were becoming fewer and fewer and more and more Alphas were being matched with Betas instead. The few Omegas who were being produced were immediately removed from their families and sent to a special inst to learn the customs and laws of being an Omega. Families would never see their child again and it soon became seen as a curse to be an Omega. Those who were bore the slang name "Chosen Ones" instead. It was meant to be an honour and a privilege, but instead it was something to be hated and resented. But all Betas and bonded Omegas never spoke out for fear of their lives.

The powerful Alpha families, the Lords of London, were ultimately the law and no family was more powerful than the Holmes clan. The Lower-Class feared all of them and so on the day John discovered that he was an Omega, he decided to take matters into his own hands and control his own destiny.

That night when his family was asleep, John packed his duffel bag with some clothes, all of his savings and few meagre personal belongings and ran away. Disappearing completely. He left a note on the table for his family saying he would return one day and to never tell anyone that he existed. He knew his parents would understand what he meant. It worked in their favour that their family was living in the slums of Manchester. Everyone kept to them selves and children went missing all the time, never to be found again. But every Lower-Class there knew those children were trucked off to the factories for work. That was the way of life.

The punishment for run away Omegas though once identified, was to have their whole family arrested and used as bait. They would then be tortured until they were either killed or the Omega would come into custody. John knew his parents would be heartbroken he had left without saying goodbye, but this is exactly what they would have wanted for him to do. He could slip through the cracks in the system and remain unidentified. If he was careful enough he could live a free live in disguise as a Beta. He wouldn't get his first 'heat' until he was 18 so that gave him a few years to get his life in order.

Until then his scent would remain unchanged which gave him an even greater advantage.

He would figure something out but thankfully he looked older than most boys his age and could pass by for someone at who looked at least 15. As he ran through the night through streets and further and further away, John knew he would need somewhere to work where he could save up get out of England and go to America. That would be the only way to escape and America had a medical treatment, which helped Omegas be able to contain their heat and delayed their fertility.

Everywhere else in the world had this treatment available to the public but Omegas were so rare in England that it was illegal for Omegas to take any form of birth control. Betas were exempt from this rule though. It just wasn't fair in any form whatsoever.

John hated it and he hated himself that he was a Chosen One. What had he done to deserve this? What had his parents done to deserve this?

Wiping unwanted tears as they ran down his face, John was determined that he was never going to be found out. That he was going to somehow make his way and be ok.

Fate turned out to be kind to him. Escaping the city had been easier than John had expected. A kind, middle-aged truck driver had taken pity on him and given him a lift from the outskirts of Manchester. They drove all throughout the night and when morning came and John woke up in the passenger seat, the driver let him at a crossroad. He wished him luck and drove off. It wasn't until the truck had disappeared off into the horizon that John had no idea where he was.

Turning a slow circle, taking in the lush green hills of the countryside, John couldn't remember ever seeing such a beautiful sight. Or breathing in such clean air. He missed home.

A lump rose in his throat, but John clenched his hands and swallowed it. There was no point on dwelling on the past when he had to look to the future. It didn't make it hurt any less as he picked a random road and began to walk down it.

The hours began to slowly trail by and John had not seen a single car, truck or tractor. There seemed to be no sign of any human life.

A terrifying thought of not reaching another human being again entered John's mind as he began to walk past a particularly large paddock. Glancing at it out of the corner of his eye he noticed it was filled with cattle. The noise the livestock was making was a rather nice way to fill in the silence as he walked.

Then something happened.

The fence was old and very damaged and with loud 'CRACK' suddenly half the herd was on the road and running amuck everywhere. John paused as he suddenly found himself completely surrounded by cows. Having never been close to a real cow in his life, John was slightly nervous to say the least, but the large animals certainly did not seem interested in him in the slightest. It seemed the large lines of flowers on the sides of the road was the cause of the sudden stampede.

"Come back 'ere ye bastards!" a loud voice suddenly called out.

John turned his head to surprisingly see a rather spry elderly man running across the paddock out of nowhere, waving a wooden cane over his head in exasperation.

Uncertain as to how to act, John repressed the automatic urge to wave back in greeting. "Do you need any help?" he called back loudly.

The strange man simply yelled back as he ran closer, "Oi! You! Boy! We need to get 'em back inside the fence!"

John nodded, tightening his bag strap around him and immediately set himself to work.

It had taken a while to gently herd all of the cows into a new paddock, but John had stayed to help the old man fix the fence. After a chat and many grateful 'thank ye boy!' when all was mended, John suddenly found himself with an offer of a dinner invitation.

"But you don't know me. I could be a burglar for all you know."

The old man, who had introduced himself as Hamish Watson, had laughed. "Oh I have seen a few crooks in my time, boy. You definitely ain't one of 'em."

John just smiled. He did not say he was a runaway, but it hadn't been too hard for Hamish to guess it. Instead of letting John walk away when John did not want to cause the man any strain, Hamish instead lead the now exhausted boy back to his cottage on his farm. So John could rest up, and it was a token of appreciation for his help.

John happily accepted. This strange, eccentric man was excessively kind and John knew he would be stupid not to take up the offer.

When they reached Hamish's cottage, John then met Alice Watson, Hamish's wife of 62 years. She was just like her Hamish, completely bonkers. But the instant John stepped inside their home, he felt more safe and warm than what he ever had at his 'real' home. The thought made him want to cry as memories plagued him of his real family.

The pair fed John a hearty dinner and he ate till he was fit to burst. Afterwards they all sat in the lounge room in front of an open fire and John listened to tales of their life, stories of love, humour and some sadness. It was captivating. He fell asleep on the couch, listening to their rich voices as their words wrapped around him and followed him as he slipped into the realm of dreams.

In the morning Hamish offered John a job as a farmhand, to which the young boy accepted happily. John stayed there for the next three years.

He worked hard there and was quickly 'adopted' by the couple as the son they had never had. He grew to love them and, while they would never replace his parents, John was relieved to have them. He knew he would end up having to live alone so he enjoyed every moment he had with them.

The hard labour caused his body to get stronger and he learnt many important basic skills that ranged from mechanics to veterinary. During his sixteenth year though, Hamish died from pneumonia and Alice died only months later from a fever. John found himself alone once again in the world.

They had left everything to him though in their will and John suddenly found himself to be a very wealthy person. Their lawyer had discreetly forged a birth certificate claiming proof that John had been their grand-son, they had been his legal-guardians. John would be allowed instant access to his new fortune, so long as he adopted the last name 'Watson'.

So now he was legally known as 'John Hamish Watson'.

John knew that now was the time to go and begin his life in education.

He had not been to school since leaving home, so he hired a carefully selected group of people to look after the farm and cottage. Knowing it was now in safe hands, John packed up a suitcase and moved to London.

Although 16, people assumed his was at least 18 and John began attending classes again and worked so hard he had caught up in a year all he had missed and began to study subjects that would allow him to become eligible to study medicine.

When he turned 18, the day he had been dreading for the past 5 years, John had found the perfect place in London to hide away from everyone. A place long thought to have disappeared. Deep down in the ancient sewer pipes that ran under the city, John went into heat for the first time and it was absolute agony.

No amount of reading had prepared him for experiencing being so sexually aroused that it _physically hurt_. No amount of masturbation helped and each time he brought himself to orgasm it only made the burning, aching feeling of wanting to be fucked _worse_.

After the first few orgasms, John was whimpering on the stone floor in an old forgotten room and was unable to move for fear that if he moved anymore he would go insane with need. How could anybody go through this and enjoy it? The hormones running rampant through John severely questioned that if there was a God if he had a sick sense of humour to make being an Omega such an awful thing.

Social outcast from his fellow class, removed from his family, seen as nothing more than a breeding machine from the Upper class and put through this agony all because of his biology makeup.

Yes God must have a very cruel sense of humour and enjoyed to watch them suffer. No one had ever said how bad the heat was, or that it lasted 3 days.

By the time it had ended, John was starved and severely dehydrated that his body had nearly shut down. Thankfully he had already planned ahead and packed enough supplies to last a week. He had even brought an inflatable lilo to sleep on. But by the time he had the strength and felt well enough to make his way back to his small flat, John knew that from now on he was going to have to be careful and wash twice a day with the expensive Beta-scented body wash that all Betas were required to use.

To have a single scent for the sub-group made it easier to separate them from Omegas. But it hid John perfectly amongst them as the years passed and he eventually got into medical school and graduated as a licensed doctor.

Every 6 months he would go into heat and he would hide below London in the sewers and writhe in his aroused agony. But no one suspected him to be any different from any other Beta and John felt that he would be forever safe.

During his medical school years he did many experiments on himself to try and change his Omega physicality and hormone levels. But no matter what he tried he went into heat every six months still, but when he managed to ingest male hormone tablets from volunteering for a medical trial, John discovered his heat was actually manageable had been reduced to a mere ache that allowed him to actually function and remain himself.

It even helped make his scent become even less noticeable, but no matter what he tried he could not hide his overwhelmingly sweet scent whenever he went into heat so he still hid himself away from everyone.

John procured a job at St Barts hospital as a doctor, his specialty being trauma which allowed him to eventually become in charge of the emergency room and one of the best trauma doctors St Barts had ever seen. No one had ever questioned his week-long holiday every 6 months, and John thought that life was good. Even though the Omega laws were now harsher and stricter, John enjoyed being able to live a, mostly, free life.

He visited his farm every year at Christmas and was overjoyed that even after twenty years of being in hiding and being taken in by complete strangers, it was doing even better every year.

Life was indeed perfect, until someone was stabbed in the middle of the walkway near John's apartment and died under John's hands whilst he was putting pressure on the wound and not a day later an extremely arrogant Alpha by the name of Sherlock Holmes was bombarding him with questions about everything that had happened in exact detail.

And John found, to his absolute horror, that for the first time his body suddenly _craved_ for another.


	2. Chapter 2

Upon his first glance after the apartment door was opened, viewing the much shorter man with a flick of his eyes, Sherlock didn't see anything interesting in this Beta. He already considered him simple and stupid. Dull. Obviously a doctor, but not good enough at his job to have been able to save his only lead on his latest case. It involved a dangerous serial killer who had been trailing through the city for the past month. Fifteen victims so far with the body count expected to rise.

What was he to do now?

Eyeing the useless doctor with something akin to condescending annoyance, he then fired off all different questions and demanded answers. It was vital he knew everything because so many pieces were still missing to the case.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes from Scotland Yard, I'm here to take your witness report on what happened. Take me to where the victim was stabbed and go through what you did." Sherlock ordered, briefly flashing DI Lestrade's stolen badge and briskly turning around and walking away.

Sherlock stopped walking at the precise spot, identifying the large stain of blood still on the road. He crinkled his nose slightly at the acrid odour, it didn't help his nose was so sensitive. John caught up quickly and introduced himself. Sherlock had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the courteous tone in his voice. Not caring to shake the hand extended towards him, Sherlock immediately began to question him. Better to just get this over and done with after all.

As this 'Dr. John Watson' replied to each question and re-enacted to precise detail what he did, Sherlock began to deduce the man further with ease.

He was obviously a morally good person, had never had a girlfriend, lived alone… Living a boring monotonous life. Not worth Sherlock's time because he hadn't seen anything before hearing the victim's scream when se had been stabbed. He hadn't even seen anyone leaving the scene when he had rushed to the dying woman.

Boring, boring, boring.

But what Sherlock had not seen coming was when John snapped at him suddenly after a rather rude statement from the Alpha that insulted both him and his abilities as a doctor.

"I would have liked to have seen you do a better job at saving her life! Someone who had died in complete agony," John growled, his heart thumping in his chest with anger. Looking the Alpha in the eye, he growled in a threatening voice, "Do not, ever, say something like that to me again."

Sherlock frowned at John and opened his mouth to destroy the Beta with a few choice words. How dare someone of a Lower-Class talk to him like tha- _what on earth?_

His nostrils suddenly flared slightly as Sherlock had inhaled deeply and could smell something minutely different in the man's scent. A subtle change that only flared when his heart rate had increased and anger was clearly running rampant in the smaller man.

_Interesting._

John answered all of Sherlock's short brief questions with just as brief answers, wishing the Alpha would just go away because his body was acting up. He was beginning to find it hard to focus when the Alpha's scent was so alluring and one of the best things he had ever smelt. Why was it _this_Alpha? Working in the hospital had exposed him to remain to hundreds of Alpha patients over the years. Not once had any provoked a reaction from him. So what was the deal with this one?

Sherlock peered at him extremely closely as he spoke and all it did was cause John to just glare at him, confused as to what the hell was his problem. "Why are you looking at me like that?" John finally demanded, having had enough of the uncomfortable silence. It was now beginning to unnerve him more than he would like to admit.

He was not prepared for the next words to fall out of the Alpha's mouth.

"It doesn't make sense that someone who has obviously come from a farming background in Sussex has ended up in London. Self-sustained and managing to afford medical school all on your own when you clearly have no respect for Alphas. You have lived alone the entire time you have been here and have never had a partner. So, care to explain?"

John's jaw dropped open in amazement. How could this stranger know all of this?

"I-I inherited it from my grandparents. That was…amazing. How did you know all of that? I moved there when I was younger after both my parents had died," John explained. Why on earth was he telling his life story to a complete stranger? Someone who incidentally incredibly attractive and smelt wonderful.

"I observed, now how did they die?" Sherlock asked.

Raising his eyebrows in confused surprise, why would that be necessary to a murder case? "Car accident."

It was true. John had found out when he was seventeen. He had returned to the area in Manchester where he had lived only to find out his parents had been killed in a hit and run two years after he had left. It had been gut wrenching. John had left flowers on their graves before he had left to return to the cottage. He has not been visited them since.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as the tumultuous emotions flowed over John's face. So many different muscles twitched from John's jaw all the way up to his eyebrows. Why was this suddenly so distracting? Why was it so interesting to watch him reliving what would have been an agonising part of his life?

"Were they drunk?" Sherlock asked bluntly. That was the highest statistic of cause of death in a car accident after all.

John's head up flew up as the question instantly brought him out his reverie. "What? No! No they weren't drunk!" he yelled slightly. "Now you listen to me you _idiot_! These questions are not related to whatever investigation you are doing. Even though you obviously aren't with the police." John stared back at him with a hard expression, stepping forward and poking Sherlock in the shoulder as he spoke.

Sherlock was genuinely shocked at John's reaction and he narrowed his eyes as he studied the doctor, who was now positively seething. John was defending himself like an Alpha would and was clearly not going to back down. How intriguing. But when John had looked at him in astonishment when he had been deduced and then said that that was amazing, Sherlock had been surprised at the praise. But now it was clear that he had noticed that John obviously wanted to be left alone, it wasn't because he wasn't repelled by Sherlock, or even intimidated. He hadn't been unnecessarily rude to him or even told him to piss off yet.

He obviously wanted to separate _himself_ from Sherlock for some other reason and Sherlock knew it was to do with his slight change in scent. Maybe it had been triggered by stress? That suggestion was instantly deleted. John was in a highly stressful job. Illogical that stress could be a contributor. Sherlock inhaled deeply again and was interested to notice that John's scent had gone back to being…normal. Dull.

Beta's scent never changed so why would this one's? He certainly was not an Omega by any standards, most likely a hormone imbalance but even that was extremely rare and had always shown as physical attributes. Not a change in scent. Hmm. It was increasingly becoming clear that this, Dr, John Watson was not as ordinary and dull as Sherlock had anticipated.

Suddenly stepping forward that only a few centimetres separated them, Sherlock inhaled deeply again and found that there was still no change.

John immediately took a step back and frowned at him, "What the hell are you doing?"

Sherlock frowned and took another step closer and inhaled again, still no change in the Beta's scent. It made no sense.

John took a few steps back so there was some distance between them. Looking Sherlock up and down he asked, "Do you go around sniffing every Beta you have interviewed like that?"

There was no anger in his voice now but rather an uncertain annoyance that Sherlock did not know what to make of the situation. But suddenly John's pager goes off making them both jump and the rising tension instantly disappear.

Checking it, John's eyes go wide slightly glancing up at Sherlock. "I'm sorry but I have to go. I've been called in. Emergency." John quickly begins to run off back to the apartment but he suddenly stops and turns back around. Regarding the Alpha with a sudden smile, John gives a small wave. "Good luck with the case, I hope you nail the bastard."

Turning away and not waiting for a reply, John ran with his blood pounding in his ears as his body ached with Sherlock's rich scent now fully embedded in his senses. He did not look back, even though his inner Omega silently begged him to. Opening the door to his apartment and running inside, John grabbed his case and then rushed to the hospital.

Sherlock watched John until he had disappeared out of his sight around a corner. He couldn't help but feel the _need _to find out more about this…_John_.

After he had solved the case though, The Work always came first.

A new thought as to where the killer could be possibly hiding rose up in his brilliant mind and Sherlock ran off down the street with a gleeful expression on his face. The game was afoot once again.

* * *

John's emergency call in lasted for a full 24 hours as a series of multiple car crashes flooded the Emergency room and their beds were reached to full capacity. Every life was miraculously saved though, but it had been exhausting work. When John finally left and began to make his way home, he had a large smile on his face. It was long days like this that made being a doctor worthwhile.

Finally walking up the stairs to the familiar door, relieved that he had taken the time to have a shower at work because then it meant he could just go straight to bed, John suddenly stopped in his tracks only to have his nostrils flare at the strong scent of Sherlock that was now _all over his door_.

Looking closer at the door handle, John noticed that the angle in which it was turned. Someone else had turned it but not the full way around. Taking a step back and inspecting the welcome mat, John notices the mud on it and he frowns at the size of the footprints on it, definitely not his own.

Suddenly there was a loud _crash_ inside his flat and instantly John unlocked the door and ran inside, brandishing his spare scalpel from his bag in his hand as a weapon.

Knowing the flat better than the back of his hand, John didn't even need to pause as he flicked on the light in the lounge room and was not surprised to see Sherlock standing in the middle of the room picking himself up off the floor after having tripped over the edge of the rug in the dark. A lit torch rolled away from the detective across the floor.

Sherlock though, does look surprised to see him and John shuts the door and glares at Sherlock.

"What the _bloody hell_ are you doing here?!" he growled, "And how did you get into my flat?! I could have hurt you!"

Sherlock rolls his eyes and pulls himself off the floor, looking incredible bored, "Oh please. Picking locks is child's play John."


	3. Chapter 3

John's frown deepened, but he quickly noticed Sherlock's eyes dropping to the scalpel still gripped tightly in his hand. Glancing down at it too, John sighed and placed it on top of a nearby bookcase and crossed his arms, looking at the Alpha expectantly.

Sherlock blinked at him once, twice and John waved one arm in an impatient gesture. "Well?" he asked.

Sherlock put his hands in his pockets and frowned back at him, "Well what?"

"What are you doing here Sherlock and why did you bother to break into my flat? Which, if you didn't know, is illegal."

Scoffing at the insinuation of the law applying to him, Sherlock turned around to observe the room. "If you were going to call the police John, you would have done so by now."

A thoughtful expression crossed John's face. If it had been any other intruder he knew he would have confronted them, just like he had with Sherlock. Suddenly feeling exhausted as the adrenaline hit began to fade, John sat himself down on the nearby couch. "I never said I was going to call the police."

Surprise flashed briefly on Sherlock's face before he smiled with a slight smirk, "Yes, that was obvious when you barged in here with no concern for your safety. Incredibly stupid, even for you. I could have been anyone."

John considered him for a few seconds in silence but the pause was enough for Sherlock to narrow his gaze in slight suspicion, "Unless you had already known it was me."

Tilting his head to the side, John looked at Sherlock thoughtfully before replying, "Maybe, but you are the only visitor I have had since living here and the only person to have stepped on my door mat with feet as long as yours."

Sherlock glanced down at his shoes and then looked at John with something that could nearly be called approval. "You do not let anyone into your life and yet you knew it was me in your apartment even though I had broken in. Despite the fact we had spent no more than fifteen minutes interaction over twenty four hours ago."

With every sentence Sherlock took a step closer to John and John did not dare move off his position on the couch. The near predatory stare from the Alpha prevented him from moving. John began to understand why Alphas considered themselves the head of the hierarchy. If a single look had this effect on him, John began to fear what a touch from Sherlock would accidentally unleash.

Suddenly Sherlock bent down and was eye level with him, nearly nose to nose with John. Bright cerulean blue contrasting the deep brown.

"Why is it you, Dr John Hamish Watson, are still in my mind after a day when no one new lasts more than an hour! Now tell me! HOW and WHY did your scent change?!" Sherlock's voice had lowered until it was a growl rumbling in his chest and John could feel it vibrate through the air and into him.

It was the single, most, sexiest thing John had ever heard in his entire life.

Despite every repressed instinct that was screaming inside of him to crumble and tell this gorgeous, nearly over-whelming, Alpha all of his secrets, to submit and stop fighting, John's unbreakable resolve won through. He refused to allow his Omega-side to rule him. There was more to him than that, he had fought so hard to get to where he was. He was not going to change now.

John leant forward ever so slightly, his eyes boring into Sherlock's as if he could see right through him. Sherlock had never felt so uncomfortable in his whole life. John's scent had not changed once the entire time he had been here, not even in close proximity and Sherlock was at a loss. John was just staring at him and not saying anything, inspecting his face as if expecting to find some sort of meaning. Although he couldn't comprehend what it could possibly be.

But, Sherlock found that as he stared back, that John's face was much softer when up close. Not as harsh when he was frowning. Hmm, yes he was aesthetically pleasing at this distance. How could this man be a Beta and have this sort of effect on him? Could there possibly be an exception to the rule of not being attracted to Betas?

John suddenly leant back and smiled in amusement. "My scent may have appeared to have changed because the bonded Omega next door has been in heat for the past week. It gets everyone worked up at this time of year."

Sherlock immediately frowned, "What?"

John pointed behind him with his thumb to the lounge room wall, "If you had stuck around for another half hour you would have heard them going at it."

Sherlock glanced at the wall and wrinkled his nose in slight disgust, "It would not have been something I would have wanted to hear." He quickly looked back at John, his mind whirring at the possibility it could have been a bonded Omega triggering the scent change in John. But surely it had been John's fault? "How has it come to be that you are living next to a bonded Omega?"

John smiled, "Are you interested in celebrities?"

Shaking his head, Sherlock looked rather offended, "I have no interest in such superficial, unnecessary rubbish. Popular culture is not important,"

He looked away back at the offending lounge room wall, deep in thought and John felt himself internally relax. Having the wound up Alpha calm down caused the overwhelming musky smell in the apartment to disperse slightly.

John was constantly amazed that un-bonded Alphas did not realise how many pheromones they unconsciously released the more emotional they got. Anger was the worst for it. Now his apartment was going to be entrenched with the enthralling scent of a gorgeous Alpha who he did not need in his life and risk discovering his secret. Fantastic…

Sherlock looked away, more than slightly disturbed he seemed to have been wrong, turned away abruptly and walked away from John towards a leather armchair in the corner of the room. Sitting down rather heavily on it, drawing his feet up onto the cushion, he crossed his arms over his chest and began to visibly sulk.

The sight reminded John of a spoilt child. The surprise at seeing such a sight, the abrupt change in Sherlock's behaviour, that an Alpha was acting this way? That an adult was acting this way as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

It was…refreshing and calming. There was a restoration of balance in the apartment as John regarded the man in front of him with a blank expression. Ok, so the only Alpha who had ever caused a reaction in him was also, in retrospect, a large child.

Perfect.

"Cuppa?" John offered suddenly, he certainly felt like he needed one. There were a million questions running through his mind and John knew that there was no chance of him being able to ask Sherlock about himself. As much as he desperately wanted to. The man in his lounge room was such an enigma that John wanted to know more about him.

Sherlock nodded silently, deep in thought. He did not know much about the physiology of Omegas and how they were chemically different from Alphas and Betas. He had never met an Omega in his life and the chances of meeting one were so low he had given up on the possibility of bonding with one at a young age. Why bother to learn about what he cannot ever have?

Watching John move through his flat with calm and ease, even though he practically had a stranger in his home. A stranger, who had broken in, stood directly in his face and sniffed him. Sherlock oddly felt uncomfortable of his actions and slight guilt. He had desperately wanted to provoke some sort of reaction from this man, but instead he been offered a cup of tea and some biscuits.

A steaming white mug along with a plate of biscuits was suddenly placed on the small table next to Sherlock, snapping him out of his mind. His eyes studied John's back as the man made his way back to the couch. He could practically see the ease and anticipation in the Beta of looking forward to enjoying a cup of tea. Such domestics, they had never held a place in Sherlock's own life and nor did he ever want them. But, he had to admit, the tea did smell rather delicious and he was feeling slightly peckish.

His suspicions were confirmed on the first sip that John knew how to make a good cup of tea. It was hitting a spot he had not realised needed filling and Sherlock shut his eyes at the feeling of the hot tea settling in his stomach.

"Did you end up catching the killer?"

The curiosity was evident in John's voice as Sherlock opened his eyes and turned his gaze back to the smaller man. John obviously hadn't read today's paper. The gentle inquisitiveness was so clear on John's face that Sherlock knew the man would not be offended if he said no. But how he had marvelled at Sherlock's genius before made the Alpha wonder if the Beta would react the same way again.

Sherlock took his time in having another sip of his tea before answering, "Yes."

"How?"

Unable to repress the small smile at John's astonished face, Sherlock placed his cup of tea back on the table and began to explain everything. It was a long, complicated tale but by the end of it John sat in complete silence for a few seconds before his face broke out into a smile full of amazement and awe.

"That was fantastic", he gushed out and Sherlock felt warm prickles of warmth buzz over his body at the praise. "So you're some sort of detective then?"

"Consulting detective. Only one in the world, considering I invented the job." Sherlock replied but paused briefly. "That's not the usual reaction I get," Sherlock said, giving John a wry smile.

"What do people normally say when you…"

"Deduce…"

"Yes, deduce them?"

"Piss off." Sherlock said, smirking slightly. John's face softened before looking away with a slight frown.

He got up off his chair and collected both Sherlock's and his empty cups and took them out into the kitchen. Sherlock began to analyse John's unusual reaction until John called out from the kitchen, "They are all idiots to think that."

Sherlock ears pricked at the tone of sincerity in John's voice and he couldn't help the spark of a small smile on his face. When John walked back into the lounge room, the frown of disapproval still clear on his face, Sherlock found it to be quite interesting. He found himself not wanting to stop studying the expression on John's face. John's obvious displeasure at how others didn't appreciate his genius. Why did he care what others thought of him? He barely knew Sherlock yet here he was, defending him from the masses. Such emotion on the Beta's face... What was the range John could possibly show? It certainly would be fascinating to catalogue them all if given the chance.

Sherlock grinned at the thought and replied, "Yes they are."

John looked at him, slightly shocked at the change of mood but he quickly smiles too and suddenly they begin to find themselves both laughing. Neither not quite sure why, but it seemed that it was called for in that moment.

The night ended with Sherlock leaving out of the apartment door and him actually apologizing for breaking into John's flat and alarming him.

John, completely taken aback by the gesture, grinned and replied, "Please, just don't do it again. All you have to do was knock and if I'm not home, leave a note."

Sherlock smirked, " You have a hidden key on the underside of your door mat hidden under the loose seam on the right hand corner. I'd wait till you came back."

John's mouth dropped open and Sherlock smiled, "Good night."

Before John was able to reply, Sherlock ran into the nearby stairwell and out of sight. Eyeing the mat suspiciously, John immediately picks up the key hidden in the exact spot Sherlock had described. How he had known it was there was beyond him, but the fact that Sherlock had taken the time to pick the lock instead of just using the spare key was a little worrying.

"Need to come up with a new spot for this…" John mumbled as he went back inside and shut the door behind him, wondering when he would get to see Sherlock Holmes again.


End file.
